Hold Me Here
by ddpjclaf
Summary: Written for a FanFic contest Ms. Suzuma is holding. This would take place AFTER the original book, so please be aware that it contains SPOILERS, and do not read if you have not read the book already. Only rated M because of the subject matter. No Lemon.


**Hold Me Here**

_A/N This one shot was written in response to the author's tweet about possibly holding a contest. This is my contribution._

_I need to say that, FORBIDDEN, is one of the only books that has ever made me cry. If you haven't read it and don't want to be spoiled, do not read any further._

_And, I cried real tears writing this._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Maya:<strong>  
><em>

My bed is cold, so, so cold, and the house is quiet. Utterly, silent. Kit's music is off, and Willa and Tiffin have been asleep for hours. But I can't sleep. I don't know if I'll ever sleep again. My eyes move over the shapes in the darkness, recognizing each and every one, seeing everything in my mind, seeing everything . . . except the one thing I want to see.

I close my eyes and curl onto my side. The sheet flutters over me and a familiar scent rises to meet my nose. My breath catches, but it's too late. Memories rush to the surface, pulling me under, drowning me, drowning me . . . Warm hands cupping my cheeks, trembling lips touching mine, and eyes . . . eyes full of pain, full of restraint, full of love, full of want. And I want. I want, I want, I want.

A gasp escapes my throat and I bite my fist to quiet myself. No. I won't do this; I promised I wouldn't do this. It doesn't help. Nothing helps. Nothing will ever make the pain stop. Nothing will return to me what's been taken. But I can't stop, I can't stop the thoughts, the feelings, the memories, and I want him back. I want him_ back_. My brother. My best friend. My . . .

I pull the sheet up to my face, inhaling the scent, the memory, inhaling him. I know I shouldn't dwell, shouldn't let myself fall into this, but I can't help it. He is all around me in this bed. I twist myself up tighter, pretending it's him, his arms around my back, his legs entwined with mine, the skin of his neck against my face. I pretend and I breathe him in.

I know I need to be strong, that I need to take care of Kit, Tiffin and Willa. Today, as I watched them shovel dirt over the pine box holding Lochan's body, I was strong. When Willa squeezed my hand harder than I thought possible for a child so small, I was strong. When Kit broke down, dropped to his knees, and pressed his forehead to the freshly dug earth, crying out his apologies, I was strong. When Tiffin stood back, face stone and eyes glistening, and watched the only real father he'd ever known disappear forever, I was strong. But right now, alone, in the dead of night, with the smell and memory of him, of that last day, that last beautiful day, all around me, I'm not. I'm not strong. I'm weak and lonely and in love, and I _want_ him.

My throat aches to call his name, part of me still believing he's asleep under this roof, that he'll come at my call, not wanting to remember that he's eternally asleep under six feet of dirt across town. My fingers dig harder against the sheets and I fold further into myself. I want to disappear too. I want to not hurt. I want to be where he is, where I know I can be with him, where I can love him, and touch him, and kiss him, and no one will care.

Why did they have to care? Why? We were hurting no one. After all we'd been through already, why couldn't they let us have each other? To have that one little spark of light in our world of dark?

A flash of cold dangles against my wrist and I look down. In the dull light of the moon, Lochan's bracelet twinkles in the shaft, telling me, reminding me that no matter what has happened, that spark is still there. It lives in me. He lives in me. He will always live in me. And someday, he will come back for me. But I just wish, for just one moment, that I could have him again. Here, in my arms, just once more.

My eyes feel suddenly heavy, and I welcome sleep, crave the escape. I let them close and it isn't long before darkness engulfs me, pulling me down and covering the pain and yearning in a temporary salve of unconsciousness. And there in that empty space, there is peace. But the darkness doesn't last for long. At the edges of my vision, light glows with mounting intensity, moving further and further inward and growing brighter as it nears the center.

Finally, there is nothing but light, white and pulsing. I squint into it, my eyes blinking against the blinding brightness. Shapes appear in the light, dark and unmoving, and quickly gain familiarity. Soon, I recognize a dresser, a door, a desk. I'm in my room. It is day and the sun is shining, a soft breeze rustling the flaps of the curtains. Something about this feels recognizable, like I've lived it already.

A weight presses on my chest and a tremor shoots through me. I look up and for a few seconds, all I see is green. Green flecked with blue looking down at me. I gasp as my gaze holds the eyes, then moves to shaggy black hair, a sweat dotted forehead, cracked, swollen lips.

"Lochie," I whisper.

He laughs a little, his warm breath hitting my face. I start to close my eyes, but realization hits and my gaze darts to the open door behind us.

"Lochie, the door—"

He smiles and leans in. "You don't have to be afraid here, Maya."

"But—"

His finger touches my lips and traces along the bottom one, before he says, "No one is coming today."

My breath catches. "What do you mean?"

"We're safe, Maya. It doesn't matter here."

I swallow, and a new pain rises in my throat. A new realization. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

Lochan shrugs, and I feel the movement throughout my whole body. This doesn't feel like a dream. It feels like that day, like he's here with me again, on top of me, his skin warming my skin, his body joined with mine.

I reach up and lay my hand on his shoulder, my fingers tracing the curve of his neck, up to his jaw. I'm shaking and I can't breathe. "You feel too real to be a dream." The warmth of him seeps into me, and I want more.

"Maybe I am real. How do you know?"

The tears I'd managed to hold back flood my eyes. "Because I watched them bury you today. I watched them pile shovel after shovel of dirt over you. I—" My voice catches. "Why, Lochie? Why?" Part of me already knows, but I want to hear him say it. I want the reason to fall from his lips.

He drops his gaze and takes in a breath. "I'm sorry, Maya. But I didn't know any other way to keep us together. I . . . didn't know any other way."

"But we could have figured it out! We could have tried!"

"Maybe." He meets my eyes again. "But maybe not."

"You left me." My voice is tight and high. "You promised we'd be together and you left me. You left us."

Pain etches lines across his forehead and he lowers it to mine, his hands cupping both sides of my face. "I'm sorry," he says, and I hear the regret in his voice. Lochan looks back up and I see tears in his eyes as well. "But I didn't leave, Maya."

"Yes, you did! You're not there. I can't see you. I can't touch you." My hands run up his arms, and I feel every muscle and tendon. His pulse thrums under my fingers and he seems so alive. I want him to be alive. I want this to be real. My throat constricts, and my words barely make a sound. "I can't hold you there. I want to hold you, Lochie."

His breath shakes and I feel him tremble above me. "You can hold me here," he whispers, and his tears fall on my cheeks. "Hold me here."

I choke on my own tears and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling his body flush against mine. There is nothing between us, no clothing, no sheets, just skin and heartbeats. My hands slip to his shoulders and I curl my fingers into his flesh, hoping if I hold on tight enough he won't be able to leave again. His lips touch the nape of my neck and his arms slip under my back, tugging me closer.

"One day, Maya," he murmurs into my skin, "I can hold you like this, and I won't have to stop. No one will be watching. No one will care. I promise."

"Why not now?"

"Because you're waking up."

The air around me shimmers and Lochan feels less firm under my fingers. I grasp him tighter. "No! Please. Not yet. Please, don't go yet."

He kisses up my throat and along my jaw. His hands hold my face as he brushes his lips over the corners of my mouth. "I'm not going anywhere."

I grab his face and hold him to me. "I don't want to wake up," I say against his mouth. "I want to stay with you."

"I'll love you forever, Maya." His voice is growing distant, and the light is curling in on itself, collapsing all around me.

"Please," I gasp and try once more to hold onto him.

Lochan leans in and presses his mouth firmly to mine. I clutch him as hard as I can, opening to him, tasting what I can, leaving a little bit more of my soul here with him. I feel his skin, warm and soft against my cheek, his lips moving against my own. But somehow, I am leaving. I am leaving and he is staying. I want to stay. But I can't. I can't, I can't. He is fading away, and even though I'm reaching, I can't hold him anymore.

"Lochie!"

My eyes open. Sunlight filters through the window, curtains flapping in the breeze. I breathe in and the scent of him is stronger than it was before. It is all around me, smothering and encompassing me, as if he'd just walked out of the room. My whole body is warm, tingling, and the sheet over me is puffed out and falling slowly to my skin. My mouth is burning, and I reach up to touch my lips. They are swollen, hot to the touch. I run my tongue over my bottom lip, and I taste him. I taste _him_. Lochan.

My heart skips in my chest. It's impossible. Impossible. My mind is playing tricks and I am just imagining everything, the feel, the movement of the sheets as if someone had just left them, the taste . . . But he'd said it himself _"Maybe I am real. How do you know?"_

I close my eyes and turn over onto my side. The bed is no longer cold, but warm, filled with hope, with peace. Lochan was right. He may be gone from this life, but he's not really _gone_. I still feel him all around me, in the warmth of these sheets, the coolness of the breeze, and the burning of my lips. I still see him in the eyes of my brothers and sister. And it hurts. It hurts to see him, to feel him. But it would hurt worse not to.

I may not be able to hold him right now, but one day, one day sooner than I know it feels now, I'll be able to have him again. And there will be no shame. No hiding. No more fear. One day, we will both be in a place where we are no longer brother and sister, where we are both alive, and happy. A place where I am just Maya and he is just Lochan. And on that day, I can whisper the same words to him that he'd whispered to me:

_Hold me here._

And he will.


End file.
